Kith and Kin
by Jlbrew28
Summary: Richie's introduction to Tessa's family doesn't go smoothly. Sequel to "Hearth and Home". 2 of 3 Warning: spanking. Don't like, Don't read.
1. Addressing an Issue

Highlander

Highlander

"Kith and Kin"

Summary: Richie's introduction to Tessa's family doesn't go smoothly.

Author's Note: Sequel to "Hearth and Home". Richie is only fifteen; takes place in season one after "Family Tree".

Warning: This story will contain spanking of a teenager. If this offends, PLEASE don't read it.

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, nor will I ever. I am simply writing this story purely for my personal enjoyment.

Chapter 1: Addressing an Issue

Duncan MacLeod sighed.

Who ever it was that said Immortals couldn't get headaches obviously hadn't ever had to deal with a fifteen year old.

"Come on, Mac," Richie begged, pleading. "Please?"

"I've already told you, Rich," the Immortal said, "and my answers still the same. No."

Richie groaned. "Why not?" he asked, flopping down onto the sofa dejectedly. "It's not like I haven't ever gone out of town with Gary and the guys before."

"Don't go there, Rich," Duncan told him, firmly. "You are not about to go spend the weekend in Seattle with guys eighteen and nineteen years old without there being a responsible adult present."

"But I'm…" Richie started to say, but then stopped himself. He had been about to argue that he _was_ eighteen, but that simply wasn't true now.

Duncan nodded. "That's right, Rich," he told him. "You're just fifteen years old and you're not going. That's final."

Richie glared at him, and then muttered something rather unflattering under his breath.

Duncan, however, had very sharp hearing. "That had better not have been what I thought it was, young man," he told the boy, sternly. "Not unless you'd like to find sitting down very uncomfortable."

Richie blushed. "Sorry, Mac," he said, sincerely.

Duncan sighed, again. "That may be part of the problem right there, Rich," he told the boy.

Richie looked confused. "What is?" he asked, trying to figure out what it was he said.

"Mac," Duncan told him. "It's just a little too informal an address."

"Okay," Richie said, "you wanna run that by me in English, Big Guy?"

Duncan grinned. "I mean," He said, "that I think because you call me "Mac" you forget just who I am."

"I know who you are, Mac," Richie told him, confused.

"Do you, Rich?" Duncan asked him, raising an eyebrow. "Really? Because I don't think you'd have called me what you did just now if you had. "Mac" is a nickname, and one you'd use for a boss or friend."

"You are my boss," Richie told him.

"No, Rich," Duncan said, seriously, "I'm not and I'm not your friend, either."

"You're not?" Richie asked, hurt written all over his face.

Duncan sighed a third time. Sometimes with Richie, you had to go the LONG way around to get to your main point. "Rich," he asked, "what's my last name?"

"MacLeod," Richie told him, still not quite following where this was going.

Duncan nodded. "And what's your last name?" he asked him, pointedly.

"Ryan…" Richie started to say, and then blushed. "I mean, MacLeod." Understanding finally dawned in his eyes.

Duncan smiled. "That's right, Rich," he said, gently. "When we signed those adoption papers, I stopped being JUST your boss and friend. I also became your father, and I take that role far more seriously than I do the other two. When you call me "Mac" I think you forget that I AM YOUR FATHER." He pronounced that last statement slowly and firmly.

"So," Richie said, "you don't want me to call you "Mac" anymore?"

Duncan nodded. "That right," he said, gently. "From now on, when you address me I want you to use something that in some way means 'father'." He hadn't meant to push this issue yet, due to the fact that parental-child relationship was so new and they were both still getting used to their new roles, but he knew it was probably best to get it over with now rather than wait 'til later.

"Like what?" Richie asked, curious. Was there even a word out there that would fit the Immortal?

"That's up to you, Rich," Duncan told him. "Whatever you feel comfortable with is fine, as long as it means 'father'."

Richie grinned. "So, I guess 'the old man' is out, huh?" he asked, smirking.

Duncan rolled his eyes. "What do you think?" he asked, reaching over to ruffle the boy's reddish-blonde curls.

Richie laughed, dodging. "If I can't go to the concert with them," he asked, "can I still at least go over to Gary's tonight with Angie?"

"Rich," Duncan said, "it's Friday, of course you can go. Just be home by your curfew."

Richie's face brightened and he hopped up. "I will," he promised. "I'm gonna go use the office phone and call Angie!"

"Hey, Rich," Duncan called after him.

Richie stopped in mid-step. "Yes, Sir?" he asked, turning to look at the Immortal.

"I love you," Duncan told him, sincerely.

"I know," Richie said, smiling. He then turned and headed down into the office.

Duncan sighed, again. He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up to find his beautiful lover staring at him. 'Hey, Tess," he greeted her, smiling.

Tessa wasn't fooled. After twelve years with the man, she knew him pretty well. "Give him some more time, Duncan," she told him, gently. "He just isn't ready, yet."

"I know," he said, gently, "but that doesn't mean I'm going to stop telling him."

Tessa smiled. "Good," she said, sitting down on his lap with a sigh.

"So," he asked, "redirecting" the conversation, "what did Jeanette have to say?" He was referring to the two hour phone conversation she had just finished with her mother in France.

"Quite a lot," Tessa told him, smiling. "It seems she and Papa are celebrating their fiftieth wedding anniversary next week and they would like us to come. Apparently, it's going to be…how would Richie put it...oh yes, a 'big shindig'."

Duncan smirked. Her French accent sometimes made quoting American slang sound weird, but he wasn't about to laugh. Not if he valued his manhood, that is. "Do you want to go?" he asked her.

Tessa smiled and he knew the answer before she said anything. "Yes, I would," she told him. "It has been a couple of years since we last visited, and I would love for them to meet Richie."

Duncan nodded. "I'll make the arrangements," he said. "We'll leave first thing Sunday."

Tessa nodded. "Do you think Richie will mind terribly?" she asked. "Perhaps it is too soon?"

"He's going to have to meet them sometime, love," Duncan told her, shrugging. "Might as well be now. Don't worry, I have a feeling our bonnie lad will make quite the impression."

Tessa smiled.

_Yes, but will that be a good thing…or a bad one?_

TBC…


	2. Who's Who?

Highlander

Highlander

"Kith and Kin"

Summary: Richie's introduction to Tessa's family doesn't go smoothly.

Author's Note: Sequel to "Hearth and Home". Richie is only fifteen; takes place in season one after "Family Tree".

Warning: This story will contain spanking of a teenager. If this offends, PLEASE don't read it.

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, nor will I ever. I am simply writing this story purely for my personal enjoyment.

(A.N.: Small correction from Ch. 1: It's Tessa's parent's 40th anniversary. Not 50th.)

Chapter 2: Who's Who?

"Were going to France!" Richie exclaimed the next morning at breakfast. "_Tomorrow!"_ His fork froze in mid-air, his blue berry pancakes forgotten as he stared at the couple staring at him expectantly.

Tessa nodded. "Yes," she told him. "My parent's anniversary is next week and they wish us to come and celebrate it with them." She was smiling brightly, hoping against hope that the boy wouldn't take this news as if it were a death sentence.

"But…" Richie said, trying to think of a suitable argument _not_ to go, "I haven't learned enough French yet. Besides, I don't even have passport!" He had actually been doing very well in his tutoring sessions.

Duncan and Tessa smiled at each other. "I'm taking care of the passport this morning, Rich," the Immortal told him. "I have a few "old" friends who owe me a favor or two."

"And my entire family speak fluent English, Richie," she told him, gently. "My grandfather was British, so we grew up learning _both_ French _and_ English. My sisters have taught my nieces, as well."

"Oh," Richie said, his brain going blank on him, "then I guess it'll be okay." He didn't think so, but hey what choice did he have?

Duncan chuckled. "It'll be okay, Tough Guy," he told him, getting up and patting him on the back. "We're not going to open the store this morning, so you can just relax and maybe get some packing done. I should be back around noon or so. If it'll take longer I'll call." He had already shrugged into his jacket, and now he came over and gave Tessa a kiss. For good measure, he kissed the top of his son's reddish-blonde curls.

"Ahh," Richie groaned. "Do you have to do that?" He wrinkled his nose at the show affection.

"Yes," Duncan told him, firmly. "I do." He then ruffled the boy's hair and headed down the stairs to the T-Bird.

Richie sighed, looking down at his forgotten breakfast.

Tessa grinned. "Richie," she said, gaining the boy's attention, "everything will be all right. My family will love you, just as Duncan and I do."

"I know you believe that, Tess," he told her, "but trust me. Their probably all ready hiding the family silver."

Tessa rolled her eyes at him. "Don't be silly," she scolded him, gently. "After we made the flight arrangements, I called Mama to tell her that we were coming. She was quite thrilled and can't wait to meet you. I _know_ Papa will be overjoyed."

"Why do you say that?" Richie asked, curious.

"Because," Tessa told him, smiling, "my sisters both had girls. You will be the grandson he has always wanted."

Richie couldn't help grin at that. "So," he said, "you have sisters, huh?"

Tessa nodded. "Yes, two," she told him, taking a sip of her coffee. "Tori is three years older than I and Toni is three year younger."

"You're in the middle," Richie said, surprised. He had always thought she must have been an only child or at leas the youngest. "Your sisters have weird names."

Tessa grinned. "Their full names are Victoria and Antonia," she explained, "but Papa said those names were just too long for little girls, so he shortened them. They have been Tori and Toni ever since."

"That's cool," Richie said, getting up and taking his plate to the sink. "You said they have girls?" He came back and sat down. He really wanted to know who was who so that he didn't make a complete idiot of himself when he met them.

"Yes," Tessa said, "they both had twin girls. Tori's two, Tara and Tamara, are eighteen. Toni's two, Tina and Tami, are twelve. They are wonderful and I think you'll like them very much."

"All you're names begin with T," he said, "well, sorta."

Tessa chuckled. "It was their husband's idea," she explained. "They thought it'd be cute."

"Their husbands?" Richie asked, a little worriedly. Tessa's sisters might not have a problem with him but their husbands probably certainly would. It had been his experience that fathers didn't like him anywhere knew their daughters. Kinda cousins, or not.

"Yes, Victor and Antonio," she told him. "They were twins and both loved my sisters terribly. They met at a party one night and thought it such a funny coincidence that their names were alike. Victor married Victoria, and Antonio married Antonia. They were very nice men and I always liked them." There was a sad look on her face and in her voice that he picked up on.

"Were?" he asked, puzzled.

"Yes," Tessa said, sadly, "I'm afraid they were killed in a car accident a few years ago. My sisters moved back in with our parents after that. Though they understand, I think they do wish Duncan and I lived closer."

Richie bit his lip, not sure what to do or say next. "So," he said, "is that all who's going to be there. Just your parents, your sisters, and their daughters?"

Tessa nodded. "Yes," she said. "Their anniversary is next Friday and they'll be a big party that night that a lot of their friends and neighbors have been invited to, but as far as the rest of the week it will be just us and them.

Okay, maybe that wouldn't be so bad then. "I guess I better go start packing, huh?" Richie asked, sheepishly.

Tessa smiled. "Would you like me to help you?" she asked.

Figuring it would cheer her up a little bit, he said, "Sure." Getting up, they headed to his bedroom.

Tomorrow was going to be a busy day for all of them, especially Richie.

_Please, don't let me blow it._

TBC…


	3. Evil Fathers and Grumpy Teens

Highlander

Highlander

"Kith and Kin"

Summary: Richie's introduction to Tessa's family doesn't go smoothly.

Author's Note: Sequel to "Hearth and Home". Richie is only fifteen; takes place in season one after "Family Tree".

Warning: This story will contain spanking of a teenager. If this offends, PLEASE don't read it.

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, nor will I ever. I am simply writing this story purely for my personal enjoyment.

(Warning: Richie's given few smacks.)

Chapter 3: Evil Fathers and Grumpy Teens

At four o'clock the next morning, Duncan crept into his son's bedroom and grinned at the sight that greeted him. Richie was sound asleep with one leg hanging off the bed and an arm draped across his face. There were very few times the Immortal had wished he owned a camera. This was one of them.

"Rich," he said, going over to the bed and shaking the boy's shoulder, "time to get up. Our plane leaves in just a couple of hours."

The boy groaned something incoherent and swatted his father's hand away.

Duncan chuckled and shook him again. "Come on, son," he said, smiling, "rise and shine."

"Go 'way," the boy growled at him. "Don't wanna go." He tried to roll over but the hand on his shoulder prevented it.

"Sorry, Tough Guy," Duncan said, unsympathetically, "but you're going. Now up!" When the boy didn't move, a wicked grin appeared on the Immortal's face and he quickly went across the hall to the bathroom. Coming back in, he quite deliberately poured ice cold water into the teenager's pajama pants and waited for his reaction.

He didn't have to wait long.

Richie spang up from the bed muttering curses in English, French, _and _Polish. Hopping out of bed, he began hopping around his room trying to dispel the coldness from nether regions. He glared at his father.

"You're evil," he growled at him.

Duncan shrugged, unfazed. "You should have gotten up when I told you to the first time," he said. "Now, you have about ten minutes to be dressed and in the kitchen. I'm not about to have you missing breakfast. We both know if that happens you're only going to be sullen and disagreeable the entire plane ride."

"What if I want to be sullen and disagreeable the entire plane ride?" Richie asked, smirking.

"Then you'll be taking a very sore backside onto the plane with you," Duncan informed him, bluntly.

Richie sighed. "Yeesh," he grumbled, "it was just a joke. You'd think after four hundred years a guy could learn to have a sense of humor--Hey!" He hollered because he was grabbed rather abruptly, spun around, his pajama pants yanked down a bit, and three very HARD smacks were delivered to his semi-bare butt.

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

"Ow!" He yelped, rubbing his behind once he was released. "What was that for?!" He glared at the Immortal.

"One was for the swearing," he told him, matter-of-factly, "one was for the attitude, and the last was for just being a cheeky brat. You now have eight minutes and counting to be in the kitchen; unless, of course, you'd like to take a full trip over my knee?"

"All right," Richie said, surrendering to the inevitable, "I'm going. I'm going." He quickly grabbed the clothes Tessa had "suggested" he wear this morning, and had placed on the chair beside his door before going to bed last night, and then headed into the bathroom.

Chuckling, Duncan went to wake up his beautiful Tessa. It would take her just as long to get up, but he had _other_ methods of persuasion at his disposal to coax her out of bed.

Everyone was up and dressed by the time breakfast was served at five, and they sat down and ate a quiet/quick meal. To keep him busy and his mind off the ensuing familial get together to come, Richie was asked to wash the dishes since they wouldn't be eating lunch that day.

At six, the cab Duncan had called and reserved last night was there and the Immortal was helping him load their luggage. Tessa, of course, had decided she had to bring along three or four bags (and even then she complained that she wasn't bringing along enough) while he and Richie had only one each. As he loaded them, he couldn't help but think back to a few trips he'd taken with his ex-lover Amanda.

_Women are the same the world over,_ he thought grinning, _whether they are fifteen or fifteen hundred!_

"All right," he told his family was all the bags were in the trunk of the cab, "let's get this show on the road." He went and locked up everything. They then headed for the air port.

Richie was incommunicado the entire time, which told the Immortal and Frenchwoman that he was obviously very nervous. Normally, they couldn't get the boy to shut up long enough except to put food into his mouth.

"Come on, Rich," Duncan told him, reaching over and wrapping an arm around his son's shoulders, "everything is going to be just fine. I promise."

"Yes, Richie," Tessa assured him also, "my family is very nice. They will love you. I promise."

The teen wanted to point out that neither of them could _actually_ guarantee what they had promised, but decided not to. They were just trying to be supportive. He had been told that how parents were supposed to be…even when they didn't know what the H was going to happen. He supposed if it made them feel better to believe that, then he'd let them promise him whatever they wanted. He was still going to be holding his breath the entire time.

"Thanks," he told them. "I appreciate it." He really did. They had been super great to him all this time, especially when they found out he was really only fifteen. He owed them a great deal, so if spending a few days with Tessa's family helped him do that then he'd do it without grumbling. No matter how upset it caused his stomach to be.

They pulled up to the air port. "Well," Duncan said, "here we are." He and Tessa moved to get out of the cab.

"Yep," Richie said, biting his lip, "here we are." He followed behind the couple, at a slower pace. Maybe if he lagged behind the plane would take off without them. Unfortunately, Mac had other ideas.

"Here," he said, handing the boy their two bags, "you can make yourself useful."

Richie glared at him. "You're evil," he growled, only half-heartedly.

Duncan smiled. "And you're grumpy," he said, non-plussed. "I'd say that makes us even. Let's go." He gestured toward the entrance of the terminal. Father and son headed that way with luggage in hand.

Tessa followed behind them carrying her carry-on. "Evil fathers and grumpy teens," she muttered. "What are you going to do?"

"Keep us anyway," two male voices answered her simultaneously, causing her to smile brightly at them. She laughed as they glared at each other for being so much alike.

_Yes, I think I just might._

TBC…


	4. Da

Highlander

Highlander

"Kith and Kin"

Summary: Richie's introduction to Tessa's family doesn't go smoothly.

Author's Note: Sequel to "Hearth and Home". Richie is only fifteen; takes place in season one after "Family Tree".

Warning: This story will contain spanking of a teenager. If this offends, PLEASE don't read it.

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, nor will I ever. I am simply writing this story purely for my personal enjoyment.

Chapter 4: Da

Their plane arrived in France fourteen hours later, and all of them were more than a little happy to be getting off. Duncan, when he was making arrangements, had taken the liberty to have a rented car waiting for them at the airport in Paris. Retrieving their luggage, they crammed as much of it into the trunk as they could get. The rest rode in the back seat with Richie.

"So," the boy asked, as they started out of Paris, "how far is the folks' house?"

"It's about a five or six hour drive from here," Duncan told him, turning the car to head out of the city. "We should get there just in time for your favorite past time."

"What's my favorite past time?" Richie asked, glumly. He had just spent fourteen hours and now he was going to have to sit for another five or six in a cramped back seat. Hooray for a road trip!

"Dinner," Duncan told him, smirking.

Richie rolled his eyes. "Ha, ha," he said, "very funny. You should become a comedian."

Duncan and Tessa exchanged a look. The enforced confinement of the flight, plus the anxiety of meeting her family, was beginning to make the boy short tempered and grouchy. "Why don't you try and rest," the Frenchwoman suggested.

"Or you can play that Gameboy you insisted on bringing," Duncan told him, giving him a look in the rear view mirror. The boy's mood was understandable, that didn't mean, however, it would be tolerated. He had no qualms about pulling over and blistering his son's behind if he had to.

Richie got the message. "Sure," he said, quietly. "Sorry." He pulled out his Gameboy and started playing it.

Duncan sighed. "It' okay, son," he said, grinning. "We're all a little irritable. You two just get some rest and in a few hours you'll be getting a good meal and Tessa can have a nice hot bath." Both the teenager and his lover grinned widely at this.

After a while, Tessa drifted to sleep but Richie found that he just couldn't. So, he decided to ask something he'd been wondering about. "What did you call you're father?" he asked the Immortal, hesitantly.

Ever since their conversation the other night, he had been racking his brain trying to come up with an address that would fit him. Dad, while traditional, didn't seem to really fit the man; nor did Daddy, Pa, or Papa. He'd considered Pops, but that sounded more like something you'd call your grandfather rather than you father.

"After I grew older," Duncan told him, smiling, "I called him Father, mostly."

"Oh," Richie said, sighing. "That's kinda formal, isn't it?" He guessed he could call the man that, but it wouldn't sound exactly warm and meaningful if he did.

"It was," Duncan said, "which is why when I was a little boy up 'til I was fifteen I called him Da."

"Da?" he asked, surprised. "That sounds kinda cool."

"I guess," Duncan said, grinning.

"Do anyone else call their dads that?" he asked, curious.

"A lot of people," the Immortal told him. "Especially in Ireland and Scotland. It's a shortened version of "Dad"."

Richie repeated it in his head and then smiled when he realized that it actually fit the Scotsman perfectly. "Would it be all right if I called you that?" he asked, hesitantly.

Duncan smiled. "I'd be honored to be called that," he told him, sincerely.

"Okay," Richie said, smiling. "Hey, Da?" He smirked, trying out the name to see how it sounded.

"Yeah, son?" Duncan said, his throat closing a bit with emotion. He felt his heart swell with pride at the boy's use of the name.

"Are we there yet?"

TBC…


	5. Chateau de Noel

Highlander

Highlander

"Kith and Kin"

Summary: Richie's introduction to Tessa's family doesn't go smoothly.

Author's Note: Sequel to "Hearth and Home". Richie is only fifteen; takes place in season one after "Family Tree".

Warning: This story will contain spanking of a teenager. If this offends, PLEASE don't read it.

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, nor will I ever. I am simply writing this story purely for my personal enjoyment.

Chapter 5: Chateau de Noel

They arrived at Tessa's parent's house about five hours later. Though, to call such a structure a house was an understatement.

_Man, that's not a house it's a mansion!_

Richie stared at the large château, which sat upon a hill with a rather large lawn and driveway leading up to it. "This is where you grew up!" he exclaimed to Tessa.

Tessa nodded. "Yes," she said, proudly, "is it not beautiful?"

"Yeah," Richie said, still amazed, "and it's HUGE!"

Duncan chuckled. "I guess to someone who has never left Seacouver," he said, teasingly, "it would seem rather large and spacious."

"Are you kidding me?" Richie asked, rolling his eyes. "That thing ain't just large, it's a freakin' castle!"

"Richard Ryan MacLeod," Duncan said, sternly.

Richie blushed. "Sorry, Da," he said, quietly.

Duncan figured it would be many years before he would be able to stay mad at the lad when he called him that. "Just watch it," he warned him, "or else." He delivered the last with a pointed look.

"Yes, Sir," Richie said, saluting him.

Duncan rolled his eyes, but Tessa chuckled. "Let's go on up," she said. "They are all probably waiting on the veranda for us even now."

"Veranda?" Richie asked, as his father pulled their car through the large gates and headed up the long driveway. "Ain't that like a front porch or something?"

"Isn't that," Tessa corrected him automatically, "and yes it is."

Their car pulled up in front of the large steps leading up to the entrance of the home. The moment Tessa had stepped out of the car, seven females of varying ages dashed out the large front doors and headed straight for her. Richie decided to get out on Duncan's side, hoping to avoid the necessary introductions for as long as possible.

Duncan put an arm around him. "It's going to be okay," he said, watching his beautiful blonde lover disappear amid a sea of red and black haired women. Tessa had been the only one of her sisters to inherit her father's pale blonde hair. Her sister had both inherited their mother's dark hair and their daughters had inherited their fathers' red hair.

"Yeah," Richie said, "right."

He still thought they'd take one look at him and ask him (possibly politely) to vamoose.

Duncan sighed. "Just remember to mind your manners," he told his son, gently.

"Don't I always?" Richie asked, smirking.

Duncan gave him a withering look. "Just remember," he told him, "the same rules apply here that they do at home. You mess up, and your butt's mine. Got it?"

"Yeah, Da," Richie told him. "I got it. Go say hi." He gestured towards the group of women.

Duncan didn't really want to leave his son alone, but knew that it was probably better than the entire group of females descending on the two of them and startling the boy out of what few wits he had left.

Richie watched as his father was greeted by the four red haired girls, Tessa's nieces. The two littlest ones hugged him and the two older ones received a peck on the cheek. He couldn't quite make out what they were saying, but he definitely got "Uncle Duncan" in there a lot. It was obvious they adored him, just as much as their aunt did.

For the first time, Richie felt a pang of jeolousy run through him, but then felt guilty for having it. Those girls' fathers were dead; of course they'd adore one of the only two male relatives left to them. Besides, Duncan was _his_ father now and nothing was going to change that. He supposed he could share the man for a week or more.

A hand on his shoulder caused him to jump and he turned to find himself staring at rather tall, imposing looking man. He had broad shoulders, shoulder-length silver hair, and had a broad smile on his face. He was wearing torn blue jeans and a dirty work shirt, and his face was smudged with what looked like motor grease. Richie wondered who he was.

"You must be the infamous Richie I have heard so much about," the man said, his French accent only slightly thicker than Tessa's own.

"Uh, yeah I am," Richie said, wondering who this guy was, "but—uh—who exactly are you?"

The man chuckled. "Forgive my rudeness," he said, grinning. "I am Jean Noel."

Richie's mouth dropped open in surprise. This was Tessa's _dad_! But he looked so…so…_cool!_

"Expecting someone in a suit, eh?" The Frenchman smirked. "That is understandable, I suppose."

"Papa!" Tessa cried out, coming and hugging her father tightly.

"Hello, mon petit," he told her, kissing her cheek. "How has my little Tessa been?"

Tessa blushed. "Oh, Papa," she told him, "I have not been petit since I was fifteen and I certainly am not what you would call "little" anymore."

Jean laughed. "You'll always be little to me," he told her, affectionately. "Hello, Duncan." He greeted the Scotsman who had come up beside his son and lover.

"Jean," Duncan greeted, smiling. He'd always rather liked Tessa's father, namely because he hadn't threatened to remove his private parts when he'd been told his daughter was moving half way across the world to live with him. In fact, the man had actually told his daughter to "go for it".

"Richie and I were just getting acquainted with each other," Jean told them, smiling at the teenage boy whose mouth was still hanging agape. "I think I may have startled him a bit."

"And no wonder," a pretty older lady with silver-streaked dark hair pulled into a bun and wearing an expensive dress suit said. "Really, Jean. You could have at least washed your face before coming up."

Richie assumed this was Tessa's mother, because despite their different hair colors their faces were almost identical to each other.

"Jeanette," Jean told his wife, "Tessa has seen me looking worse than this before. Besides, I seem to remember a time not too long ago that you rather enjoyed getting dirty along with me." He winked mischeviously at the teenager, who was watching this exchange in bewilderment.

Jeanette Noel blushed prettily at her husband's words. "Really, Jean," she said, looking at her granddaughter. "Not in front of the children."

Jean just laughed at that. "Our daughters are grown women, Jeanette," he told her, "and all three of them have children of their own. I believe it is a little late with…what is that charming American way of putting it…oh yes "the birds and the bees"."

"Papa!" All three of his daughters exclaimed, their faces heating up.

Jean sighed. "I am most definitely glad you are here, Richie," he told the boy, "and yer dad, too. It might be a man's greatest dream to be surrounded by a large group of women all the time, but it certainly isn't all that great when they are nagging you all the time."

Duncan and Richie laughed at this. "We know how it is," they said at the same time, earning them both a glare from Tessa.

Jean just laughed at this and then looked down at his attire. "I suppose I _should_ freshen up a bit," he said, grinning.

"Absolutely," Jeanette told him, "you look and smell like…what is the American term…oh yes, a grease monkey! You and those machines, sometimes I wonder if old men aren't as bad as teenage boys sometimes!" She then looked guiltly at Richie.

"My apologies, Richard," she told him, politely.

Richie grinned. "No problem, Mrs. Noel," he said, shrugging. "I guess it is true. Trouble has a way of finding me sometimes."

This earned him a snort from both Tessa and Duncan. "More than sometimes," his father said, shaking his head, "and it's more like _find_ trouble rather it finding you."

"Boys will be boys," Jean said, shrugging, "perhaps after we eat you would like to see my 'machines' as my lovely wife of nearly forty years described them. I understand you are quite knowledgeable about them yourself."

"Huh?" Richie asked, confused. "What kind of machines are we talkin' bout?"

Jean smile widened. "Motorcycles, of course," he said, knowing he had probably just won the boy over in that instant.

"You like motorcycles!" Richie exclaimed, excitedly. "You mean, you fix 'em up and stuff?"

Jean nodded. "I inherited quite a bit of money from my father," he explained, "so that leaves me time to "tinker" as Jeanette likes to call it. I actually own quite a few motorcycles—some I fix up, some I use for spare parts, and others I sell. I was actually just repairing an Indian before coming up here."

"An Indian, wow!" Richie said. "You know, they only made about a hundred of those!"

Jean nodded. "Yes," he said, grinning, "and I happen to own two of them."

Richie's eyes practically lit up. "I can ride one of 'em?" he asked, all his earlier thoughts of not being accepted vanishing from him mind at the thought of actually getting to ride an Indian motorcycle.

"We shall see," Jean said, smiling. It seemed he finally had grandson who shared one of his interests. His granddaughters found his motorcycles charming, but wouldn't dare get near one of them or let alone ride one. Richie was indeed a welcome breath of fresh air for him. Together, the two of the headed inside and were followed by his wife, daughters, and granddaughters.

Duncan groaned. "We may never get him home after this," he said, smiling at Tessa.

She smiled back. "Yes," she said, grinning, "but is it not wonderful that he and Papa are getting along so wonderfully."

"Yeah," Duncan said, hesitantly, "it's great." He couldn't quite hide the small trace of jeolousy he felt that the boy had only just met the man and was bonding with instantly. They had been living together as father and son now for nearly a full month and the boy was just now starting to really accept it.

"Oh, Duncan," Tessa said, shaking her head. "Richie loves you, you know that."

Duncan blushed. "I know, love," he said, feeling sheepish.

Tessa kissed him. "All will be well," she told him. "You will see." She then headed up the stairs after the rest of the family.

Duncan looked at the luggage still sitting beside the car and frowned at the fact that he was the only one left standing out here to carry it in.

_To quote my son: this just ain't fair!_

TBC…


	6. Monkey Suit Blues

Highlander

Highlander

"Kith and Kin"

Summary: Richie's introduction to Tessa's family doesn't go smoothly.

Author's Note: Sequel to "Hearth and Home". Richie is only fifteen; takes place in season one after "Family Tree".

Warning: This story will contain spanking of a teenager. If this offends, PLEASE don't read it.

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, nor will I ever. I am simply writing this story purely for my personal enjoyment.

Chapter 6: Monkey Suit Blues

Richie had to admit that the five days with the Noels were going great! He and Jean got along great. The older man let him help him ride nearly every motorcycle he owned, including both of the cherished Indians. They also spent time talking about racing and sports, along with Mac of course. They also taught him how to ride a horse, which he had been worried about at first but once he'd gotten the hang of it was really kind of fun. He actually managed to beat them in a race, though he thought they may have let him win it.

Jeneatte doted on him almost practically every second. Tori and Toni also treated him just as if he _were_ their nephew. Tara and Tamara loved to tease him, and he of course teased them right back. Tina and Tami were both quite smitten with him, and he treated them just like he would two little sisters. Besides, they practically hung on every word that came out of his mouth and thought he was the greatest thing to come to France since the Eiffel Tower. He _just_ had to love them for that.

Tessa and Mac were glad about this, although he thought they would have liked it if he spent just a little more time with _them_ some. The couple made a point of spending time with him each day, whether it was helping Mac groom the horses in the stable after a ride or helping Tessa in her "at home" work shop. Of course, the best times was when they did stuff together…like the day they all went for a ride and had a picnic beside a brook while the horses rested…or when Mac actually convinced his lover to ride on an Indian with him and they had cruised around the area until dark.

Richie had to admit, this had been a pretty good week. Too bad, it all had to come to an end. Today had been Jean and Jeanette's fortieth wedding anniversary, which meant tonight, was the big shindig they had planned. At first, Richie had thought a party sounded like fun…then Tessa had to go and tell him he had to wear a tux. _That_ had killed his excitement faster than even being told he had to do his homework—given to him by both Mac and Tessa in all six of his "subjects" before they left home—before hand. He had tried and tried to do his work as slowly as possible all day long, but the couple had seen through this and in an unheard show of "helping" had assisted him in completing it.

So, he sat and stared at the tux laid out for him on his bed. The party didn't start for another hour and half, but there were going to be photos taken before hand and so he had to be dressed and down stairs in fifteen minutes. A knock on his door had him answering glumly, "Come in."

It was Jean, already dressed in his tux. Richie had to admit the old guy cleaned up really good. His silver hair was pulled back into a tail and the tux fit him nicely. Richie did notice one thing he _hadn't_ taken off, and that was the earring he sported in his left ear.

"So," the older man said, smiling, "how do I look, eh?"

Richie grinned. "Ya look cool, Pops," he told him. "I like the earring." When he had asked the man if he wouldn't mind being called that, he had actually laughed and told him he'd be honored to be his 'pops'. All his granddaughters just called him grandpa, so it was a nice change for him…at least that's how _he_ put it.

Jean chuckled, slapping his knee as he sat down on the bed facing him. "Less than thrilled about tonight, yes?" he said a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

Richie grimaced. "I'm just not a tux kind of guy," he told him, shrugging, "not like you and Da, anyway."

Jean smiled. "Between you and me," he told him, glancing at the door as if seeing if anyone was going to be coming in, "I would much rather be out on my Harley right now than in this—how do you put it—'monkey suit' right now."

Richie grinned. "Than why are you throwing this big party?" he asked, curious.

Jean shrugged. "Because Jeanette wanted it," he told him. "When you've been married as long as I have, you will understand the little sacrifices we men must make for the women we love. They can drive you mad sometimes, but you can't help but love them deeply…and I happen to love your grams very much."

Richie grinned. He had kept calling Jeanette "Mrs. Noel" until she had threatened to box his ears every time he did. He had replied with "sure thing, grams, whatever you say" and she had actually laughed. So, she was now 'grams' to him. For someone who had never had grandparents before, he was sure glad he had gotten two really cool ones.

"I guess," he said, still frowning at his own 'monkey suit'.

Jean just grinned again and stood up. "I suppose I should get downstairs," he said, "and you'd best be getting dressed, young sir. Otherwise I know two very intimidating Frenchwomen who will be up here if you aren't downstairs when you're supposed to be. Believe, they wouldn't hesitate to dress you themselves." He laughed at the look of horror on the boy's face.

Richie nodded. "Not to mention Da would put my butt in a sling," he said, getting up.

"Another very good reason to get ready," the older man said, giving him a swat to his rear end to get him moving. Still smiling, he left him alone.

Richie sighed. "Time to bite the bullet," he said, and then began undressing.

_It's gonna be one LONG night._

TBC…

(A.N.—I'm having a bit of writer's block with my Danny stories, so you're just gonna have to be patient and wait. I'm trying to focus mostly on my Indy stories, as they are so fresh in my mind right now. Thanks and keep reviewing.)


	7. The Party

Highlander

Highlander

"Kith and Kin"

Summary: Richie's introduction to Tessa's family doesn't go smoothly.

Author's Note: Sequel to "Hearth and Home". Richie is only fifteen; takes place in season one after "Family Tree".

Warning: This story will contain spanking of a teenager. If this offends, PLEASE don't read it.

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, nor will I ever. I am simply writing this story purely for my personal enjoyment.

Chapter 7: The Party

Okay, so the party wasn't half bad.

Sure, Richie hated wearing the monkey suit and all these people he didn't really know kept coming up to him and speaking in French so rapidly he had absolutely NO idea what they were talking about, but he still kept a smile on his face and nodded anyway. Other than those two things, the food was great and there were several really cute girls his own age that kept checking him out.

"Don't get any ideas, Tough Guy," Duncan warned him, seriously. "No sneaking out of here tonight. If you're Gramps and I have to suffer, you have to suffer. Got it?"

Richie rolled his eyes at his father. "I know, Da," he said, _trying_ to sound mature about it and failing. "It isn't like you haven't told me a million times, already."

Duncan chuckled, slapping him up side the head playfully. "Mind your manners," he told him, grinning, "or else."

"Or else," Richie repeated, smirking, "you'll chop me into hamburger meat with your katana and feed me the dogs, right?"

Duncan rolled his eyes. "Well," he said, "one part of you _might_ feel like hamburger meat after I'm done, but I really don't think the dogs' eat it."

"Ha, ha," Richie said, taking a sip of his soda (the adults got to drink champaigne, by the way), "that was so funny I forgot to laugh."

Duncan chuckled. "Away with you, Bratling," he said, giving him a shove toward a gaggle of girls that was still staring at him, "go break a few hearts."

Richie smiled brightly. "Like father, like son, eh?" he asked, waggling his eyes at his dad.

Duncand laughed. "You have no idea, youngling," he told him, "now get." He took a swing at the kid's rear end but the boy moved out of range very quickly.

"That boy is a joy, Duncan," Jean told him, smiling as he watched his grandson talk his way past the language barrier with no problem and managed to be in the _center_ of the gaggle of girls within moments.

"Aye," Duncan agreed, his heart swelling with paternal love for the boy, "that he is."

Jean smiled at the Highlander. "You've got to be the proudest man in the room tonight," he told him, clapping him on the shoulder, "you know that, yes?"

Duncan grinned at his father-on-law. "I thought honor went to you," he said, smirking, "seeing as how you're one of the two guests of honors?"

Jean snorted at that. "This is all for Jeanette," he said, waving his hand at the party, "I'd much rather be down in the garage in my blue jeans, chugging a long neck right about now."

Duncan chuckled. "Mind if I join you?" he asked, grinning.

The older looking man smiled. "Yes," he said, "if you'd like to face the wrath of my daughter when this is all over. I'm sure I'd be able to make a nice cot for you out there."

Duncan feigned horror. "Heaven forbid," he said, chuckling, "anything but that."

Jean laughed, clapping him on the back again. "Duncan," he said, "I know I never told you this, but I'm glad you came into Tessa's life. You're good for her."

Duncan felt a lump in his throat. "Thank you," he said, "but if truth be told, she's been the best thing that's happened to me…before Richie, that is."

Jean nodded, understanding. "It must have been hard all these years not being able to have children," he commented, quietly.

Duncan looked at him in surprise. "How did you know?" he asked, curious. Neither he nor Tessa had ever mentioned the fact that he couldn't have children to her parents.

Jean gave him a pointed look. "It's been twelve years, Duncan," he told him, "and I pretty sure you and my daughter never used protection…I know Jeanette and I never bothered with it…so it stood to reason that one of you couldn't have them. Since I know it wasn't Tessa—her doctor told us she was quite capable of bearing children when she turned fifteen—I put two and two together. I hope I haven't offended you."

"Of course not," Duncan said, blushing a little bit. "I just got used to it over the years, but when Richie came into my life…well…" He shrugged, unable to find the words to describe it.

Jean nodded, understanding. "I know exactly what you mean," he said, eyeing his wife and daughters across the room. "I know exactly what you mean." He took a sip of his champagne.

Duncan smiled. Only to lose it a second later when he felt the unmistakable presence of another Immortal. Dread settled in his chest so fast he thought his heart had stopped for a moment.

_Oh no, not here! Not now!_

TBC…


	8. The Challenge

Highlander

Highlander

"Kith and Kin"

Summary: Richie's introduction to Tessa's family doesn't go smoothly.

Author's Note: Sequel to "Hearth and Home". Richie is only fifteen; takes place in season one after "Family Tree".

Warning: This story will contain spanking of a teenager. If this offends, PLEASE don't read it.

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, nor will I ever. I am simply writing this story purely for my personal enjoyment.

(A.N—I'm SO sorry for the long wait. Highlander, as much as I love it, is one of those fandoms I have to be in the mood to write about. I promise, I'll try and update again soon. Please, review. Thanks.)

Chapter 8: The Challenge

Duncan felt his heart start to race.

His first thought was of his son, afraid that whoever was here would feel Richie's pre-Immortal signature and go after him.

_Calm down, MacLeod! Whoever is here isn't going to make a Challenge openily. Start breathing and go find whoever the hell it is!_

Taking seven calming breaths, he got his heart rate under control and focused on the situation at hand.

"Ah," Jean exclaimed, smiling, "Pierre! So good of you to come." He held out his hand to a tall, blonde haired man wearing an expensive tuxedo and carrying a martini.

Duncan knew immediately that this man was the Immortal he'd sensed. His body tensed up as his and the man's eyes met, a secret acknowledgement passing between them.

"Excuse me," Jean said, "where are my manners? Duncan MacLeod, this is Pierre Forte—a friend of mine. He and his wife, Nicole, are our nearest neighbors. Pierre, this is my daughter's husband, Duncan MacLeod."

Duncan smirked at that, as he wasn't really Tessa's husband but he supposed it _was_ a bit awkward to say "my daughter's live-in lover" so he let it slide. He held out his hand to the other Immortal. "Pierre," he said, smiling tightly, "it is good to meet you."

The other man nodded. "It is good to meet you, too," he said, a weary expression in his eye.

They continued to stare at each other, neither one wishing to be the first to look away.

"Oh," Jean said, "I see an old friend, if you'll both excuse me."

They both nodded as he left them and then their smiles faltered.

"I am Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod," Duncan gave his traditional introduction.

"That is good to know," Pierre said, "but let me assure you, M. MacLeod, I do not pose a threat to you."

Duncan raised an eyebrow at that. "Oh?" he asked, suspiciously.

The man nodded. "I swear it," he said. "You see, I am not in the Game anymore. I simply wish to live my life with my wife and our son."

"Your son?" Duncan asked, puzzled.

"My stepson, actually," Pierre told him. "He does not know that, of course. I fell in love with Nicole after her bastard ex-husband left her because she was pregnant. I have tried to be a good father to Henri, giving him my name and someone he can count on."

Duncan nodded, understand that all too well. "You aren't here to Challenge me, then?" he asked, wanting to be sure the man wasn't a threat.

Pierre shook his head. "No," he assured him. "Jean is a friend—we share an interest in motorcycles—and he invited us. We are here for this party, nothing more. You?"

"The same," Duncan told him, smiling. "Does your wife know…"

Pierre nodded. "Yes," he said, "though Henri does not. He's around here somewhere. He's fifteen."

Duncan grinned. "My son, Richie," he said, relieved that there was no threat, "is the same age."

Pierre grinned. "They are such…what is the word?...handfuls at this age, no?" he asked. "Do you frequently have the urge to strangle him?"

"You have no idea," Duncan said, glad that he and this man had something in common besides being Immortal. "How long have you been out of the Game?" He had tried to do the same thing, but of course he hadn't been able to stay out of it.

"Nearly seventy years now," Pierre told him. "I still practice, I've even taught Henri, but I have been lucky that I have not run across any of the less than desirable members of our race in quite a while."

"You do realize with the Gathering upon us…" Duncan started to say.

"Yes," Pierre said, sadly, "I know. I will have to leave my family and move on, but I am hoping to see Henri a man grown before that happens."

Duncan knew all too well. "Good luck," he told him, raising his wine glass.

"To you as well, Duncan," Pierre said, glancing past him and smiling. "If you'll excuse me, I am being summoned."

Duncan smiled, as he watched him walk over to a stunningly beautiful brunette that was obviously his wife. The Highlander than scanned the crowd, finding his beautiful Tessa easily enough, however he couldn't see a certain reddish-blonde head anywhere.

_Now, where has that boy gotten off to?_

Richie, meanwhile, had been having quite the time. Being surrounded by French beauties that complimented him on how handsome he looked in his tux had done quickly changed his opinion about his "monkey" suit. Unfortunately, his night was about to take a turn for the worse.

He had just finished regaling "his" girls on one of his more colorful motorcycle rides when an arrogant voice exclaimed, "So, you ride, eh?"

They had all turned to find a tall brown-haired boy about his age wearing an expensive looking tux of his own and sipping wine from a wine glass. Richie felt a bit insulted by that. _He_ hadn't been allowed anything alcoholic, why had this guy?

"Yeah," he answered, bristling at the guy's superior tone, "yeah I do."

The other teenage boy smirked. "Are you any good?" he asked, taking a sip of his wine. "Or are you simply a braggart…just like other Americans."

Richie felt his face heat up. Insulting him was one thing, _that_ he was used to, but to insult his country was something else. "I'm not just good, dude," he told him, smirking right back at the arrogant brat. "I can smoke anybody, anytime."

The arrogant brat's eyes lit up at that. "Really?" he said. "How about a friendly race then?"

"Anytime," Richie said, puffing out his chest. "Just name the time and the place, pal."

"Tonight," the other kid said. "At the old stone quarry."

Richie felt himself deflate. "What time?" he asked, slightly hesitant.

The other guy smirked. "Midnight, of course," he said, draining the rest of his wine in one gulp. He licked his lips and smirked at Richie, as if daring him to accept.

Richie had never turned down a challenge in his life and he wasn't about to start now. "You're on," he said. "What'da ride?"

"A Harley, of course," the other boy said. "You?"

Richie grinned. "An Indian," he stated, proudly. He'd just borrow one of Pops and be back before anyone noticed.

"See you then," the arrogant boy said, "uh…"

"The name's MacLeod," Richie told him, proudly, "Richie MacLeod. What's yours?"

"Forte," the other boy said, "Henri Forte. See at midnight, MacLeod. If you aren't…what is the American word?...chicken?"

"I'll be there, Forte," Richie said. "Count on it."

The other boy laughed. "I will," he said, turning to walk back into the crowd.

Richie watched him go, angry. The nerve of that guy!

"There you are," Mac's voice caused him to jump. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing," Richie told him, hoping he sounded convincing, "you just startled me."

Duncan eyed him, curious. Something was up, but what? "C'mon," he said, wrapping an arm around his son, "Jean has some friends he wants you to meet."

"Sure thing," Richie said, "anything for Pops." _Especially since I'm gonna be stealing one of his bikes a little bit later on._

Richie felt his insides turn queasy, but he wasn't going to change his mind.

He had been Challenged, and if there was one thing MacLeods didn't do…

It was walk away from a Challenge.

_I'm a MacLeod now._

_It's time to prove it._

TBC…


	9. The Race

Highlander

Highlander

"Kith and Kin"

Summary: Richie's introduction to Tessa's family doesn't go smoothly.

Author's Note: Sequel to "Hearth and Home". Richie is only fifteen; takes place in season one after "Family Tree".

Warning: This story will contain spanking of a teenager. If this offends, PLEASE don't read it.

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, nor will I ever. I am simply writing this story purely for my personal enjoyment.

Chapter 9: The Race

After everyone had left Richie retired to his bedroom, pleading exhaustion after all the 'schmoozing" he had done, and quickly changed into his faded, hole-in-knees blue jeans that both Mac and Tessa detested, a black motorcycle t-shirt, and of course his favorite faded green leather jacket.

Now all he had to do was wait for the rest of the 'family' (or at least Mac and Tessa) and he could go. Listening at the door, he heard the distinctive sound of giggling and kissing. At first he thought it was Mac and Tessa, but the two voices were different and both had distinct French accents.

_Pops and Grams?_ He thought, wrinkling his nose. _Eew! But hey, it is their anniversary so I guess they'll entitled to have a little X-Rated fun. Go, Pops!_

After hearing the door to their bedroom close, he breathed a sigh of relief. Unfortunately, the sound of more giggling and laughing was heard—this time by a pair of very familiar voices. _Great, _he thought, _the 'rents are headin' into their room for some X-rated fun of their own. Perfect timing, too…_

"Go ahead, luv," he heard Duncan say, "I'll just check on Rich and be right in."

…_or not!_

Eyes wide at the approaching sound of footsteps, Richie quickly shredded his leather jacket and jumped into bed, pulling the covers over him all the way. Holding his breath, he lay very still as he heard the door open and a tentative, "Rich, you awake?" was heard.

Footsteps crossed the floor, a shadow fell on the wall he was staring at, and a deep chuckle was heard.

"You really wore yourself out tonight, eh Casanova," Duncan's Scottish brogue whispered in the darkness. "You're starting to be regular chip off the old block. I'd tell you sweet dreams, lad, but I REALLY don't think I have to worry about that tonight—in fact, your dreams might be a little TOO sweet." The man chuckled again, and Richie shut his eyes tight as he saw him about to bend down towards him.

He felt the kiss that was applied to his forehead, heard another deep chuckle, and the shadow receded from the wall. He heard the door shut a millisecond later and breathed a huge sigh of relief.

Getting up, he crept back to the door and listened. Not a sound was heard, and he took that to mean the cost was clear. He even opened it a crack just to be sure, and found the hallway was empty both ways. _Excellent!_

Grabbing his jacket, Richie crept back to the bed, did the old pillows-under-the-blanket trick (just in case), and then went to the window. Luckily, there was a rather large tree just outside it. Opening it, he climbed onto the narrow ledge beyond and leapt into the closest branch; he then started to climb down.

_Good thing I'm not afraid of heights, _he thought wryly to himself, _and that I have excellent balance…well, most of the time anyway. Going up and down the stairs at home doesn't count; those things trip me up on purpose! I just know it…_

Getting to ground level, he dropped down and headed for Jeans' motorcycle garage, which had at one time been a carriage house or something, and snuck inside. Finding the Indian he did a quick check to make sure everything was working all right, and then got the keys and a helmet. He then proceeded to push the motorcycle down the driveway. He had not intention of starting her up within the gates, as the sound of it revving could still be heard in the house even from way down here.

Once past the gates, he slapped on the helmet, put the key in the ignition, striding the seat, kicked the ignition, and gunned her awake. The sound of the revving sent adrenaline throughout his system and got his blood pumping. He was ready for action.

_All right, _he thought to himself, _let's go show that little Tadpole just an American can do!_

He revved her up and hit the gas, spending down the road at break-neck speed. Checking his watch, he saw that it was not 11:45. He had fifteen minutes to get to that stone quarry, which was a good thing, because he wasn't exactly sure where it was. Luckily, he came to a road sign that pointed the way. Thanks to Tessa and her French pop quizzes, he could read French much better than he could speak it at the moment so reading the sign wasn't that difficult.

He turned down the road it said led to the quarry and reached his destination. Not surprising, as he lived in the area, the snot nosed challenger was waiting for him with a several other teens.

"So," Henri Forte stated, haughtily, "you decided to show, eh American?"

"You bet your ass, Frenchie," Richie told him, smirking. "A MacLeod never runs from a challenge. I just hope you're ready to get your butt whooped."

The French boy, sitting confidently astride his Harley and decked out in all black leather, snorted. "We shall see who gets…whipped…this night," he said. "Are you ready to begin?"

Richie gunned the engine. "Let's do it," he said, slapping the protective cover of is helmet down.

The French boy nodded. "After you," he gestured.

"If you insist," Richie said, and sped down the gravel path. The sound of an engine revving was heard and soon the French boy was beside him.

The two racers raced at speeds that would have been considered illegal, even here in France, and would certainly have been frowned upon by their parents, but at the moment they didn't care. Nor did they care that they could be seriously hurt, or worse, as the adrenaline fueled their adolescent egos with the energy they needed to continue on in this stupid, macho-man contest of 'Who's better? Me, course!"

Unfortunately, their race track _was _a stone quarry and also a rather large scale cliff as well. Richie only noticed this part as he saw the cliff speeding up and glanced at his racing contender.

"The first to stop loses!" the French boy shouted at him.

Richie growled. _All right, Frenchie, you want to play chicken. That's fine by me!_ He gunned the engine to get ahead of the other boy.

Inch by inch, meter by meter, the ledge of the cliff was coming closer and closer with neither boy seeming to slow down.

Richie began to feel a moment of panic. _What the heck am I doing!_ He thought, suddenly. _Da'll kill me if I get myself killed!_ The absurdity of that statement had his heart rate going back to normal and the blood draining from his face.

"Slow down," he shouted at the French boy beside him. "You won't be able to stop otherwise!"

The French boy sneered. "Coward," he shouted back. "I knew Americans had no spines!"

Richie growled, but it was too late. They were already coming up on the edge of the cliff and there was not way either of them would be able to stop in time. Knowing what was more than likely going to happen, but knowing if he didn't they both be killed, he did the only thing he could. He leapt off the Indian and tackled the other boy, sending them both rolling.

The two motorcycles continued to move, even after toppling over on their sides with no drivers to hold them up, and went over the side of the cliff one after the other. The sound of metal on stone was heard and both boys picked themselves up to race to the edge. Looking down, they found their totaled bikes on the rocks below.

_Oh man,_ Richie thought, _forget about Da murdering me! Pops is going to do it for him!_

"T-That could have been us," Henri stated, removing his helmet. His eyes were wide with shock and disbelief. All the snootiness seemed to have been knocked out of him for the moment.

Richie snorted. "No s#t, Frenchie," he told him. "I told you to slow down!"

"I-I just thought…" the boy started to say, but stopped suddenly when a pair of headlights flashed in their eyes.

A blue Jaguar drove up, stopped, and a tall man got out.

"Oh no," Henri stated, his face paling even more now.

"What is it?" Richie asked, worriedly.

"My papa," the other boys said, gulping.

"Well, well," Pierre Forte said, a stern look on his face, "what _have_ you boys been up to, I wonder?"

Richie felt his own face pale, as from the passenger side of the car stepped none other but Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod.

He didn't look happy, either.

"Hello, son. Been busy?"

TBC…


	10. Pops

Highlander

"Kith and Kin"

Summary: Richie's introduction to Tessa's family doesn't go smoothly.

Author's Note: Sequel to "Hearth and Home". Richie is only fifteen; takes place in season one after "Family Tree".

Warning: This story will contain spanking of a teenager. If this offends, PLEASE don't read it.

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, nor will I ever. I am simply writing this story purely for my personal enjoyment.

(A.N. This chapter has a spanking scene.)

Chapter 10: Pops

The drive back to the chateau was a silent one. Richie and Henri sat in the back behind their fathers, dreading their fates. Pierre simply concentrated on driving; mentally preparing the speech he was going to deliver to his overzealous stepson when they got home.

Duncan just seethed.

He was angrier at himself than at his son; however, that wasn't going to stop him laying into the boy's behind when they got home.

_I should have seen this,_ he thought to himself._ Aren't fathers supposed to be able to anticipate, like Pierre did?_

Pierre had knocked on the door around eleven-thirty to inform that his stepson was missing and that he had a fair guess where he was. A sneaking suspicion had hit his gut then and he'd gone to check on Richie. Discovering the boy's room empty, Jean had looked in his garage to find one of his motorcycles was missing. That had clinched it.

He was also very disappointed in Richie, as well. Shouldn't the boy have better sense than this? Even though he was fifteen, he still had a brain. Why didn't he use it?

Shaking his head, he sighed. It seemed they had a lot to discuss. A whole lot.

Richie's guts were twisting inside. Not only was he gonna get his ass roasted by his father, he had just managed to destroy one of his new grandfather's rare, antique, and completely irreplaceable motorcycles.

_Cross me off his Christmas list,_ he thought glumly to himself, _if not out of the family altogether._

He glanced over at his partner in crime and was surprised to see that he didn't look all that nervous. What was wrong with him? Wasn't his old man gonna rip him a new one for the stunt tonight?

He shook his head. _Man, oh Man, I am so dead._

They pulled up at the Noel Estate and the two passengers got out.

"Thanks, Pierre," Duncan told the other Immortal.

Pierre nodded. "Anytime, MacLeod," he said, speaking in French, "and go easy on the boy. He looks like he's had a rough time of it."

"Oh, believe me," Duncan told him, "I'll take care of him."

The Frenchman grinned lopsidedly. "I'm sure you will," he told him. "I have my own to take care of."

"Take care," Duncan said, and closed the car door.

Richie watched the two Frenchmen pull around and head for the gate almost wishing he could go with them.

Duncan reached out and placed a hand on his son's shoulder. "C'mon, son," he told Richie. "Tessa and your grandparents are worried."

Richie nodded, thinking he was going to be sick. With every step he took, his feet felt like lead.

Upon entering through the front doors, they were instantly met by Tessa. She wrapped the teenager into a giant hug.

"Thank heavens your all right," she told him, squeezing him so tightly he could barely breathe.

"Uh, Tess," he whispered, "breathing would be good."

"Oh, sorry," she whispered, but then pulled him back at arms length, "but you are lucky to be breathing at all, young man. What were you thinking?! You could have been killed?"

"Considering that they were racing toward the end of a cliff and very nearly went over the edge," Duncan said, his voice as hard as flint, "he very nearly was."

Richie winced and Tessa paled.

There was suddenly a barrage of French as Jeanette also wrapped him in giant hug and was scolding him furiously. Of course, he couldn't understand her but he got the gist of it, anyway.

"Sorry I scared you, Grams," he told her, "and you too, Tess."

Mother and daughter looked at each other, and then both practically dove on top of him intent on smothering him with love.

"After you two get done with him," Jean commented, wryly. "I doubt any other punishment will be necessary."

Richie winced at the mention of the "p" word, but also at hearing his grandfather's voice. Gulping, he gathered up what bit of courage he had left and stepped in front of the older Frenchman.

"Uh, Pops," he said, hesitantly, "I-I kinda lost the Indian."

Jean raised an eyebrow. "Lost?" he asked, knowingly. "Or destroyed?"

Richie felt a knot well up in his stomach. "Destroyed," he said, unable to look the man in the eye. "It was either me or the bike…I kinda chose me."

"Good," the man said, firmly. He reached under his chin and lifted it so that they were looking eye to eye.

"You made the right choice, Richie," he told him. "I'd rather lose every single motorcycle I own then lose you." He pulled the boy into a tight embrace.

"You mean more to me than all the motorcycles in the world, kiddo," he whispered to him.

Richie felt tears form in his eyes. "Thanks, Pops," he whispered back. He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked back to find Duncan there.

"Go on and head up to your room, son," he told him. "Get cleaned up and I'll be up to talk to you in a minute."

Richie winced, knowing exactly what this 'talk' was going to involve. His butt cheeks automatically tightened at the thought of the scorching they were about to get.

He nodded obediently, however. "Yes, sir," he said and trudged up the stairs to his room.

Duncan sighed. He felt a great deal older than even his four hundred years at the moment.

"Duncan," Jean said, placing a hand on his shoulder, "why don't you let me go and have that 'chat' with him…after all, it was my property he took without permission and then destroyed."

"But, Papa," Tessa started to say, but Duncan interrupted her.

"No, Tess," her Immortal lover said, "I think your father's right. Even though I still plan to ground his butt when we get home, the immediate punishment should come from the person he wronged."

"Don't worry," Jean said, "I'll be fair."

"Not too fair, though," Duncan said. "I'd like him to have learned something from this."

"Trust me," Jean said, a hint of steel in his voice, "when I'm through with him he'll certainly have learned something…especially when he can't sit comfortably at breakfast."

Duncan grinned. "Jean," he said, "you're a man after my own heart."

Jean smirked. "I do have some experience with rebellious children," he said, nodding at Tessa (who blushed a bit).

Duncan chuckled. "I'm sure you do," he said. "Will you tell him I'll talk to him in the morning."

"Of course," Jean said, "why don't you three go head up to bed. It's been a long night for all of us."

They nodded and he turned to head up the stairs after his errant grandson.

Knocking on the door, he heard a resigned voice tell him to come in. Quickly wiping the smile off his face, he put what he hoped what was a stern expression on his face and then went in.

Richie's eyes widened at the sight of his grandfather. "Pops?" he asked. "I-I was expecting Da."

Jean nodded, coming in and sitting down beside him. "I know you were," he said, "but he and I decided that this needed to be handled by someone other than himself."

"This?" Richie asked, innocently.

Jean raised an eyebrow at him. "You know what this is, young man," he told him. "It's your punishment for the stunt you pulled tonight."

Richie gulped. "Oh," he said, "right." This wasn't what he expected.

"You do think you should be punished," Jean asked, "right?"

"Oh, yeah," Richie said, without hesitation, "but I just thought Da would be the one to punish me."

"Oh, he will," Jean promised, wryly, "just not tonight. He mentioned something about grounding your butt when you all get home. He also plans to talk to you first thing in the morning."

"Right," Richie said, sighing, "so…why are you doing this? I mean, did you get the short end of the stick or something?"

"No, Richie," Jean told him, "we just felt the person who punished you tonight should be the person you wronged."

"Wronged?" Richie asked, his eyes widening.

"You did take one of my bikes without my permission," he reminded him, "and also managed to destroy it."

"But you said…" Richie started to say, and the man stopped him by holding up his hand.

"And I meant it," Jean told him. "You do mean more to me than any bike, but that doesn't excuse what you did or make it any less wrong. Now, does it?"

"No, sir," Richie admitted, feeling horrible. "So, are you going to…you know?"

"Spank you," Jean said, nodding. "Yes, young man, I most certainly am."

"Right," Richie said, sighing. "I really am sorry, Pops. I feel horrible about the Indian."

Jean nodded, reaching out clasp his grandson on the back of the neck. "I know, petite," he told him, "and perhaps once we're through you will feel a little less horrible, eh?"

"Actually, Pops," Richie told him, wryly, "I think I'll feel even worse…at least my butt will."

Jean chuckled at that. "Oh, I guarantee that," he said. "C'mon, let's get this over with."

He gently, yet firmly, guided the boy back down over his lap and raised his hand back.

Richie gasped as the first smack landed on his pajama clad rear end.

_Boy, Pops sure does have a hard hand…_

A flurry of smacks descended after that first one and it wasn't long before Richie was squirming and wincing as the heat in his rear intensified rather painfully.

Just like Duncan, Jean didn't say anything as he was spanking…wanting the boy to truly feel each and every smack he was being given so that he could fully appreciate the seriousness of what he had done in order to earn this punishment.

By the twentieth smack Richie's butt felt like it was ground beef and his eyes had begun to water. By number twenty-five, he could no longer stop the water works and by number thirty his butt officially was on fire.

"P-Pops," he gasped, "p-please."

Jean knew the boy had reached his limit and delivered one final smack—that was considerably harder than the others to leave a lasting impression in the young man's mind; at least for a few hours, anyway.

He then let the boy off his lap, sat him back down on the bed, and pulled him into a hug. Richie felt very safe with those arms wrapped around him, as those hands—which only moments ago had caused him pain—rubbed comforting circles into his back. He cried until he could cry anymore.

"There, there, petite," Jean soothed. "It's all over now. All is forgiven, no?"

Richie nodded. "Sure thing, Pops," he said, wiping at his tear stained face.

Jean grinned. "Everything looks better in the morning," he told him, standing up and placing a gentle kiss on the top of his head. "Go to sleep, petite. You've had quite the night."

"I'd say," Richie said, getting under the covers. He wouldn't roll over on his stomach until his grandfather was out of the room. After all, he didn't want him to think he was a baby or anything.

"By the way," Jean asked, reaching to turn out the lights, "who won?"

"Well, it was kinda a tie," Richie told him, smiling, "but if there had been more roads and less cliff I'd have. Hands down."

Jean chuckled. "That's my boy," he said, and then turned out the lights. "Pleasant dreams, Richie."

"Night, Pops," Richie said, rolling over on this stomach now that the lights were safely out.

Jean chuckled and exited the room, finding Duncan standing there. He raised an eyebrow at the Scotsman.

Duncan blushed. "I…uh," he said, hesitantly.

"Just wanted to make sure I wasn't _too_ hard on him?" Jean asked, knowingly.

Duncan blushed even more. "He is my son, after all," he said, shrugging.

Jean nodded. "And you are an excellent father," he told him, "don't ever forget that."

"I'll try," Duncan told him, "and thank you."

"Oh, Duncan," he said, "for a man of experience you still have much to learn about family."

Duncan nodded. "That I do," he said. "Good night."

"Good night," Jean said, and then headed into his and Jeanette's bedroom.

Duncan glanced at his son's closed door. _Yes, I do have a lot to learn still…I think we both do, son._

He then quietly headed into join Tessa in bed.

Richie was already sound asleep, visions of Indians dancing around in his head.

He smiled, though for the life of him he could figure out why his backside ached in the dream.

Oh, well…

TBC…


	11. The True Immortal

Highlander

"Kith and Kin"

Summary: Richie's introduction to Tessa's family doesn't go smoothly.

Author's Note: Sequel to "Hearth and Home". Richie is only fifteen; takes place in season one after "Family Tree".

Warning: This story will contain spanking of a teenager. If this offends, PLEASE don't read it.

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, nor will I ever. I am simply writing this story purely for my personal enjoyment.

Chapter 11: The True Immortal

The next morning, Richie awoke sore and stiff.

_Man,_ he thought, _Pops really does have a hard hand._

He stood up, stretched, and then reached back to rub his backside.

A knock on the door caused him to jump. "Rich?"

Richie bit his lip. Was his father going to punish him, too?

"Yeah, Da," he called out.

"You decent?" Duncan asked.

Richie snorted. "Does it matter?" he asked, sarcastically.

The door opened and Duncan peaked his head in. Seeing that he was indeed wearing something—even it was only his boxer shorts—he came in.

"I would never invade your privacy, son," the Highlander told him, grinning, "even if you don't have anything I haven't seen before."

Richie grinned. "How do you know that?" he asked. "I could have a tattoo on my as—uh—butt or something…"

Duncan raised an eyebrow. "I've seen your butt, remember?"

Richie blushed. "Yeah, I know." He sat down on the bed, wincing.

"Sore?" Duncan asked, sitting down beside him.

"Oh, yeah," he told him. "Pops' hand is as hard as yours."

"I'll give him your compliments," Duncan told him, smirking.

Richie scowled. "Thanks a lot," he said, sighing.

Duncan just chuckled and reached over to pat his son on the back.

"You had it coming, son. You can't say you didn't."

Richie sighed. "I know," he said, feeling guilty all over again. "Can we pay for the bike? I'll give up my allowance…"

"That won't be necessary," Duncan interrupted him. "I tried to get Jean to take something but he…well, he threatened me with a spanking if I said anything more."

"Let me guess," Richie said, smirking, "you wisely shut up."

Duncan nodded, smiling. "I may be stubborn," he told him, "but not stupid."

"Lucky you," Richie said, grunting. "I'm both."

"Hey there," Duncan said, reaching over and wrapping an arm around the boy's shoulders, "none of that. You, Richard Ryan MacLeod, _may _be stubborn, but what you most definitely are _not _is stupid."

"How can you say that, Da?" Richie asked him. "I steal Pops' bike to go race it and then I let it fall off a cliff."

"Jean would rather the bike be at the bottom of the cliff than you," the Immortal said, firmly.

"I know," Richie said, "but I still feel guilty."

"Then you can help him by doing chores around here," Duncan told him, "Especially since you won't be doing anything else for a while."

Richie wrinkled his nose. "Grounded?" he asked, unsurprised.

Duncan nodded. "Oh, yeah," he said, "definitely. Not only while we're still here in France but also for a month when get back home."

Richie nodded, resigned. _I think I'd prefer the tail blistering…_

He wisely decided not to tell his father that.

"Da," he said, looking up at the Immortal, "are you and Tessa really mad at me?"

"We're disappointed, Rich," Duncan told him, honestly, "and are upset that you didn't have enough respect for your grandfather than what you did, but we're not mad. You made a mistake, you're punishments have been given, and now we'll move on from here."

Richie nodded. "I'm glad, Da," he said. "I don't like it when you're mad at me."

"Ah, Rich," Duncan said, giving him a squeeze and planting a fatherly kiss to the top of his son's head, "I don't much like it, either. Tessa and I love you very much, Richie, that's why we get mad when you do things that risk your life. You know that, right?"

Richie nodded. "I know that, Da," he told him, smiling. "I love you, too."

Duncan felt tears sting his eyes at the boy's admission. He had only dreamed the boy would one day be able to say the words to him, but had never thought it would be so soon.

"Da?" Richie asked, looking up at him with wide eyes. "You okay?"

Duncan smiled. "I've never been better," he told him, squeezing him again. "You just surprised me, that's all."

"I'm sorry," Richie said, hesitantly.

"Don't be," the Immortal said, lifting the boy's chin so they were looking each other in the eye. "Don't ever be sorry for saying you love someone, son. Love is the true Immortal—it can't ever be killed or destroyed, no matter how much hatred would want it to. It will always remain as long as there are humans."

Richie smiled. "Gee, Da," he said, shaking his head. "Feeling pretty philosophical today, are we?"

Duncan smirked and pulled the boy into a head lock. "I'll show you philosophical, young man," he told him, rubbing the boy's head fiercely.

"Hey, hey," Richie groaned. "Ah, man!"

Duncan chuckled, letting him go. "You'd better get a shower," he told him, standing up. "Breakfast will be ready soon."

Richie nodded. "All right," he said, smiling. His stomach growled.

Duncan chuckled. "Your butt might be sore," he teased, "but there is definitely nothing wrong with your stomach."

Richie just smiled. "Ha, ha," he said, rolling his eyes, "very funny."

Duncan chuckled as he made his way to the door.

"Hey, Da?"

He looked back. "Yeah, son?"

"I love you."

Duncan beamed.

He didn't think he would ever grow tired of hearing that.

For the moment, all was right with the world and his family.

He couldn't ask for anything more.

The End...

(A.N.I do intend to write a third story in this series called "Clan and Country" but I'm not sure when I'll get to it. So, be patient.)


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